‘Nonpolitical’ Revolution-themed ice cream shop raises questions in Chandler

Twelve score and 10 years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated, apparently, to the idea that not all ice cream is created equal. 

At least, that’s the feeling at the grand opening of Brooker’s Founding Flavors Ice Cream, which made its Arizona debut on June 6 in Chandler. 

Among the crowd, many wearing tricornered revolutionary hats to get discounts on their selections, two striking figures emerge: George and Martha Washington, stepping out of a Sheriff’s cruiser to welcoming cheers of “USA! USA!” 

Several patriotic patrons sport Trump and Turning Point USA “Freedom” T-shirts. A red-and-white balloon arch frames the entrance, while a man in colonial garb paints a watercolor of the historic occasion of Washington crossing the parking lot. 

It’s hard to quantify what exactly Brooker’s Founding Flavors is. 

Ostensibly, it’s a premium ice cream franchise based in Utah, where it has been the 30-year passion project of Virginia native Brian Brooker. Prior to selling ice cream, Brooker was a U.S. Army Judge Advocate General attorney for eight years before opening his first parlor in 2018. Since then, Brooker’s Founding Flavors has opened 11 stores, with another on the way in Queen Creek by year’s end. 

It’s also a themed eating experience, with over 20 rotating seasonal ice cream flavors and “drinking chocolates” representing historical moments or political figures.  

Patrons can lap up scoops of “Aaron Burr’s Murderous Shot” (with black Madagascar vanilla), Alexander Hamilton’s “Not Throwing Away My Scoop” (chocolate with chunks of New York-style cheesecake), and Martha Washington’s “Colonial Cotton Candy,” among many other dubiously historically accurate names. 

It’s also, according to Brooker, not politically affiliated, despite the ostentatious displays of right-wing merchandise being worn by many of those waiting in line.

Perhaps these people are simply excited about the possibility of being the first in Arizona to sample the high-butterfat and super-premium ingredients that Brooker touts as the cornerstone of their success. Why else would a woman in a “You Think It’s Offensive, I Think It’s Funny, That’s Why I am Happier Than You” T-shirt be conversing with another ice cream connoisseur in a “Let’s Go Brandon” trucker hat? 

Colonial icecreamburg

After pushing past the red hats at the entrance, the store itself is underwhelming. 

The interior of Brooker’s presents like a colonial tavern, if perhaps decorated in the bleak farmhouse, post-modern style of “Fixer Upper’s” Chip and Joanna Gaines. It’s too bright, with fake hardwoods and faux-brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. 

Along the walls, AI-generated portraits of various American patriots hang next to replicas of smoothbore muskets, crossed sabers and tattered replicas of the Declaration of Independence. At the front, a three-piece string section plays the fiddle theme of Ken Burns’ “The Civil War.”

Behind the counters, employees wear tri-tipped hats, bonnets and other period garb as part of their uniforms. The place is spotless and the employees are all friendly. They helpfully explain the gimmicky menu names or how drinking chocolate is really just an old-timey, fancy name for hot chocolate.

To the right of the entrance, a full pillory stamped with the Brooker’s Founding Flavor’s logo sits, awaiting anyone who dares speak out against the Republic, or possibly fails the Liberty Bell Challenge, where brave commoners consume 13 scoops out of a replica Liberty Bell Bowl in under 30 minutes to win a T-shirt. 

Given the shop’s strip mall location, it is difficult to have a fully immersive, Disneyland-esque experience. A history-themed purchasing experience might work in, say, Colonial Williamsburg, where there are acres of shops, crafts and reenactments to sell the escapism. Here, the proximity to Ye Olde Chick-Fil-A across the street ruins the vibe.

Then there’s the elephant in the room: Where the fuck are the brown people?

America is not vanilla

Scanning the walls and menu, there is a glaring omission. Surely a historical ice cream parlor that leans into Washington and Jefferson would include (or at the very least, mention) the enslaved chefs who actually procured and perfected the recipes for their ice-cream obsessed enslavers. No?

There is no mention of Hercules Posey, Washington’s personal chef who helped curate his sweet tooth with a personal “cream machine for ice” that Washington purchased in 1784.

Nor is there any mention of Jefferson’s enslaved chef James Hemings, who is thought to have dictated Jefferson’s favorite ice cream recipe to the ambassador as they were leaving France in 1789 so that he could recreate the dish when they returned to Monticello. 

As a former diplomat and author of “American Soul: The Black History of Food in the United States,” Anela Malik writes in her historical cookbook, “Much has been said about the impact of wealthy white men on American cuisine. Some of the Founding Fathers have even been called ‘Founding Foodies.’ Yet the advancements in cuisine credited to these figures were likely impossible without the system of enslavement that underpinned the era’s economy … the immense wealth generated by enslavement and Black labor also made an indelible mark on American cuisine — and though that impact is at times hard to trace, it still reverberates today.”

Malik’s thesis explains that there would be no American food without Black innovation. Certainly, none of the wig-wearing Virginian aristocrats were churning ice cream in a parlor.

Looking at the Brooker’s flavors, there is scant reference to these unsung heroes. When there is a mention, well, poor taste puts it lightly. 

There is a flavor dedicated to Elizabeth Freeman, one of the first enslaved people to self-emancipate by suing the American government. However, the name of the flavor refers to her by her slave name, “Mum Bett,” which she was forced to wear for 30 years prior to her successful lawsuit.

The name she took, Freeman, was symbolic of her newfound freedom, but this is omitted in Brooker’s dead-named, enslaved flavor profile, “Mum Bett’s Day in Court,” which includes Ugandan vanilla with Heath toffee and chocolate flakes.

Another seasonal menu item, located next to the “Headless Horseman’s Spooky Dookie,” is a flavor dedicated to Crispus Attucks, the first fatality of the Boston Massacre. Attucks has a disputed role in the Revolution. Was he politically motivated, or was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Either way, he was the first American killed in the Revolutionary War, a martyr, intentional or otherwise. 

Here, on the walls of Brooker’s Founding Flavors, he is enshrined in name, but also with the awkward title of “First Patriot Casualty Speculoos,” where he is remembered with cookie butter ice cream and Biscoff cookie pieces. 

Even the Great Emancipator himself, Abraham Lincoln, gets his good name besmirched with the (sigh) “New Birthday Cake of Freedom,” which includes chocolate cake batter, even though the 16th president’s favorite flavor was famously burnt almond. 

While this might seem like nitpicking, it feels important that a business that chooses a historical theme for its menu should be meticulous in getting the history actually correct. To not do so is a choice, an expression of purposeful privilege to ignore the less savory aspects of our collective American narrative. In short, it’s sugar-coating, and this ice cream is already too sweet. 

A complicated concept 

Brooker admits he might have gone too far in the beginning with some of his flavor concepts. And some of his attempts at diversity and inclusion have backfired.

“You have to be somewhat careful. I am a direct descendant of Pocahontas, and my first year I did a Pocahontas Passionfruit, and I got criticized for using her in a flavor, with people saying that I was exploiting her history,” Brooker recalls. 

In the end, though, Brooker thinks his ice cream idea is worth the backlash. He asserts that the theme is purely fun and that there should be room to enjoy the concept for what it is. 

“I could keep it generic and bland and call it Brooker’s Ice Cream, but that isn’t what I want. 

As imperfect as America’s history is, I love it. It’s still a story worth telling, and it makes for a great concept,” Brooker says. 

With that in mind, putting aside the politics and poor historical representation for a moment, the ice cream itself is…fine? 

It’s a hard thing to judge because it’s ice cream. Even mediocre ice cream is still delicious. None of the flavors tasted offensive, and stalwart favorites such as “Sam Adams’ Father of Cookies and Cream Revolution” were executed well.

The recipe, Brooker notes, was modified from the alleged “inventor” of cookies and cream, Malcolm Stogo, whom Brooker tracked down in New Jersey and spent several days with to get the original recipe just right. 

In typical Founding Father fashion, Brooker used that recipe as “inspiration” for his own, which mixes the Oreos directly into the cream, making for a darker and more chocolate-wafer-forward experience. 

The other menu items that we tried were decidedly OK, nothing historically resounding, but they might taste better going down if less obviously tethered to the central theme.

Gooning for glaće

“It’s not a far-right ice cream. Literally, it says in the franchise contract for us to be nonpolitical. It’s very intentional that way. It’s for everyone,” Brooker asserts. 

Brooker has some umbrage against politically vocal ice cream companies and has gone on record several times to take digs at the “hippie” ice cream Ben & Jerry’s, which he feels has alienated a good portion of the cone-licking populace. 

“We are kind of the anti-Ben & Jerry’s. We’re the polar opposite. They’re the hippies; we’re the Founding Fathers. They really use their product as a platform, and I didn’t want to do that,” Brooker explains. 

However, this middle-of-the-road messaging tilted when Brooker partnered with the Chandler franchise owner Shane Krauser. 

Krauser is the failed 2024 Gilbert mayoral candidate who was forced to drop out once it was revealed that his son was in a video with members of the Gilbert Goons, a street gang of mostly affluent teens who have been accused of numerous violent incidents, most notably the 2023 murder of 16-year-old Preston Lord. 

While Krauser’s son denies any connection to the gang, the video was enough to derail his father’s mayoral bid. 

Krauser, now actively campaigning for several far-right candidates such as embattled former sheriff Mark Lamb, hosted an evening for the United Patriots AZ Chapter at the Midwest Food Bank on June 5. 

There, according to his social media posts, he spoke in support of Lamb, while historical reenactors engaged the crowd with performances as Thomas Paine and a Continental soldier. The event was catered by Brooker’s Founding Flavors.

The next day, the Trump-endorsed gubernatorial candidate Andy Biggs attended the Brooker’s Founding Flavors opening. Brooker denied any political motivation in having a political figure attend the event, and vehemently denied any overt meaning behind the appearance, while acknowledging that franchisee Krauser is “very connected to the community.” 

“They told me that there was a candidate for the governor’s election here, and they wanted to pass out pocket Constitutions, and I told them no. Someone introduced me to the candidate and I sure as hell didn’t invite him. I thanked him for coming, but I don’t even know the name. But if anyone is trying to campaign, I will boot them personally,” Brooker said. 

Given his Utah roots, it seems plausible that Brooker is naive about metro Phoenix politics. Surely you would vet the person you extend a franchise agreement to, but perhaps Brooker’s understanding of history only extends to the 18th century. It doesn’t seem Brooker’s stern words have stopped the far-right political rhetoric of his company’s Arizona franchise. 

Over the July 4 weekend, Brooker’s Founding Flavors was reposting Turning Point USA invitations to screen the new film “Young Washington” at Harkins Chandler Fashion 20, with Brooker’s Founding Flavors ice cream catering the event. 

Road to nowhere

When questioned about the political nature of the grand opening, Brooker insisted that he would be talking with the franchisees about possible political messaging that could alienate the customer base. He intends, he says, to make Brooker’s Founding Flavors a welcoming place for all Americans. 

As we finished speaking, I paraphrased the old adage about “you are what you eat,” wondering if the MAGA vitriol might seep into the sweetness of the scoops. 

Brooker, not missing a beat, finished the thought by quoting the anecdote, “show me your friends and I will show you your future.” 

It made me think of one of the more popular recipes from the time of the Founding Fathers: oyster ice cream. The recipe was rumored to have been passed down from Jefferson to his eldest daughter’s sister-in-law, Mary Randolph. 

While historically contested, there is a vast consensus among food-loving historians about the dish. 

Something is definitely fishy in these early ice creams, and given the lines for opening day, Brooker’s is charting a very specific, if not flavorful, future.